Old Faithful
by MoparGirl1
Summary: "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world," John Casey walked into hers.


**Hey all, this is my first foray into Chuck. When I originally wrote this piece it was part of a story idea I was playing with, but I have decided nearly a year later, the story isn't likely. I was going for an old school, fun spy movie vibe. And I'm thinking without the rest of the story it loses something, but I loved this and the silly convo at the end so much I decided to post it!**

 **Anyway, this was all in good fun! Hope you all enjoy this bit of nonsense.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable!**

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 **United Arab Emirates, present day**

Casey waited in the busy lobby of Dubai's, Grand Luxe Hotel, sitting in one of the many spacious chairs scattered about and pretending to read something on his phone. The seat, he had chosen specifically because it afforded him a clear view of the elevators, but he wasn't reading. He was actually linked into the hotels security feed so he would know if his mission ran into any trouble on her way downstairs.

He had left Walker and Bartowski in Burbank and travelled alone to Dubai for this one. Agent Madsen had vitally important intelligence on her person, and General Beckman thought it would be best to send someone who was personally familiar with her on this mission.

Casey looked up, watching as the tall, leggy brunette exited the elevator and moved into the busy foyer. His eyes narrowed slightly as they skimmed over her tall frame. She certainly looked the part, every short hair on her head was in place and he could tell even from the distance that her makeup was perfect and her little black dress fit her perfectly. She was far from the soldier he had first met years ago. Back then, she hadn't minded the dust and filth of the desert and had always said she wasn't a "dress up sort of girl." He knew she still didn't mind getting her hands dirty, but now she looked more like Barbie than like a G.I.

Standing, he dropped his phone in his pocket, casually fixing one of the buttons on his navy blue suit jacket as he made eye contact with one of the other members of his team waiting across the room before he turned and headed for the doors that led into the hotel bar.

NSA agent Amalie Madsen made her way across the busy hotel lobby. The sound of the three inch heels tapping against the marble floor, indiscernible over the noise filling the space. Her large green eyes skimmed over the crowd, missing very little.

Numerous gilded columns rose up on either side of her, some of them had sofas and chairs arranged in between, creating intimate spaces that were nearly all filled with people. Most all of them engage in conversation with another just like them. High above her head the pillars, gave way to a domed ceiling. It was painted in the style of the great Renaissance works, small cherubs flew upward through puffy white cloud and azure blue sky's toward a vaulted window that capped the domes center. A Koi pond dominated one quarter of the room, fed by a faux waterfall built into the wall over a deep grotto and surrounded by lush plants. In the opposite corner, a large black cat lay sprawled out on a tree branch behind the golden bars of his cage. His predatory gaze, stalking the indolent crowd.

On the surface, Dubai was the playground of the wealthy and powerful. Bored sycophants, with their trophy wives. Rich hedonistic playboys and wealthy socialites spending their daddy's money, all eager to lick the boots of those more influential than themselves. Underneath, it was a den of murderers and thieves. Pirates, arms dealers, drug lords, warlords, and all other manner of society's refuse did their business here. Amalie had lived here, playing arm candy to one such man for the last ten months.

Tonight she was leaving, and tomorrow she would help arrest him. Her mark had gone away on a business trip, never suspecting she wasn't what he thought or knowing all the information needed to bring him down was on the micro drive hidden within the gem hanging from her neck.

She stepped out of the foyer and into the swanky hotel lounge, spotting her ride home easily amidst the crowd. She hadn't been told he'd be waiting at the bar, but it was the most advantageous vantage point in the room because of the long mirror on the wall behind it. That was where she would have sat, but really she could have picked him out of a crowd anywhere. Broad shouldered, with close cropped dark hair, he sat on a stool facing away from her, his back erect. He screamed career soldier or ex-military. To a trained eye, they were the easiest to pick out in the crowd and not because of her own military background. She had spent eight years in military counterintelligence, and still didn't have that sort of bearing. These types of soldiers stood taller, sat straighter, and were more aware of their surroundings than other people sharing the same space. If it wasn't for knowing tonight was her extraction, she may have mistaken him for private sector, like Blackwater maybe.

Catching a glimpse of his profile, as she walked toward the bar, one eyebrow lifted slightly in recognition.

Sitting down on the cushy leather bar stool next to him, she laid her small black clutch on the bar and crossed her legs. Her dangling foot tapping the empty air around it, she ran the long slender fingers through her short dark locks and ordered a dry martini.

Beside her, her companion had yet to say a word, but she knew his highly trained senses hadn't missed a thing about her arrival. Watching the large man out of the corner of her eye, she admired his skill and the way he filled out his suit appreciatively.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world," she said, her tone conversational.

A moment of silence stretched between them. One where she was rather certain he was rather annoyed that greeting wasn't exactly protocol.

"I walked into yours," he finally replied without looking at her.

Lifting one dark eyebrow, she watched as the barkeep slid a glass toward him. Whiskey neat. He was nothing if not – pausing for a moment, she thought about the right word – predictable could work, but it didn't feel right. Dependable. Just like Old Faithful. Yes, that was it she thought as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a swallow before speaking. "I've heard Morocco is nice this time of year."

"Mmm, it is." She agreed, looking away. "If Marrakech is in your travel plans, may I'd suggest the Menara Gardens. I have been there twice," she said, letting him know she was aware of the other two operatives in the room with them before she went on, "they are particularly lovely."

After a moment's silence, he spoke again, "I'll keep that in mind. Are you meeting someone?"

The question was a code. That didn't stop the edge of her mouth from quirking upward infinitesimally however, but she remained straight faced.

"No," she said, letting him know she hadn't been followed as the barkeep handed her her drink. Most seasoned operatives, especially one with as many years under his belt as the one sitting next to her would have delivered that line a bit more smoothly. "And you?"

"Yes."

That was her cue. Watching as one of the other men stood and made his way toward the bathrooms, she knew it was almost time to go. In seconds she would follow him, then the other man would as well, leaving Colonel John Casey to bring up the rear.

When the Colonel made no more attempt at conversation, she said, "I can see you've been eating your bananas," then lifted her martini to her red lips and took a sip. It was an old joke and one he never found funny. Setting down her glass on the polished bar, her long fingers toyed boredly with the stem. "Personally, I've always preferred strawberries and hot chocolate."

Grunting, he took a slow drink of his whiskey. "And I've always thought you needed to learn there's a fine line between being hopeful and being crazy."

Lifting one dark eyebrow again, she shifted on the leather bar stool. Watching them both in the mirror behind the bar, she stood, one hand clutching her bag where it lay on the bar. "Well, I've always felt all those bananas..." She trailed off as if choosing her next words carefully, "left you a little uptight. Now if you'll excuse me?"

She slowly pushed away from the bar and walked away.

 **Thanks for reading!**


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